Sly Hats Liquorice Nights by: Tim Clare Mon:14-May-07 Label: Nervous Jerk Year: 2007 WB rating 61 out of 100

Drowsily she stirred from her interrupted dosing. Sleep wasn’t an option in economy class, despite her willingness. The person next to her listened to some old comedian program so loud she was sure even the pilot could hear each grab of canned audience laughter jarring her, brutal in its assault on her composure.

“Welcome to Melbourne”

Waiting for the endless line of people exiting the plane, she caught a glimpse of the landscape beyond the concrete and tarmac world of Tullamarine. The sky was a glorious blue, and the sun, though two thirds of the way into its daily journey, was impressively bright: “I thought it was supposed to be cold this time of year”.

Postage would have been quicker than baggage collection, but from here it seemed like only moments, hazily nodding through a taxi ride, until she was riding the lift up to the 12th floor. The harsh starch of the sheets didn’t bother her, their cool abrasion comforting a body this heavy with fatigue. Sleep had never come so quick.

The weather had not changed from two days prior, the sun’s glare magnificent through the curtain’s gap. Her potential home beckoned. In a plain yellow singlet, knee length skirt and light sweater draped over her shoulders, she left her modest room behind and made her way downstairs.

“You’ll freeze out there”, a burly man mumbled in the elevator. These Aussies are a funny breed she thought, not only are they nigh on indecipherable, but they’ve got no concept of temperature.

Extracting general directions from the equally unclear, pubescent bellboy, and ignoring the strange, penetrating looks from locals, she started on her exploration.
   
As deceptive as the Melbourne autumn, Geoff O’Connor’s Liquorice Nights is a calm and lush album but the lyrical shadows cut to the bone. Recorded under the pseudonym Sly Hats, The Crayon Fields frontman has all too quickly embarked on a solo project. Where The Crayon Fields’ Animal Bells is sunny day bliss, Liquorice Nights is a more deliberate and produced version of The Crayon Fields’ take on 60’s lo-fi pop.

The title track opens with a large nod, both sonically and lyrically to Animal Bells, but O’Connor is more relaxed on this offering, the peaceful ditty is aided by the soothing call and response between O’Connor and his leading lady. The organ along with varying percussion plays an important role in the Sly Hats sound as O’Connor crafts a languid breed of ornamental, lounge pop. ‘Will You’ is a music box shuffle, ‘Someone To Dress Up For’ thoughtful balladry and together ‘Ghost Fingers’ and ‘Kill The Lights’ both dreamy soundscapes. 

‘Windy Harmony’ and ‘Bleach’ both give kudos to the Beach Boys comparisons, embracing calypso guitar work, seaside organs and minimalist percussion. The Melbourne autumn sun streaming through O’Connor’s windows takes him to sunnier climbs “When he places the seashell so closely to your ear/who is in the windy harmony that you hear”, but the lyrical content is deeply rooted in the reality of the temperature around him “who warms up your footprint in the sand”.

But it’s not only the direct inference of O’Connor’s lyrics that give the impression of the warm/cold mismatch. It’s on this solo effort where O’Connor’s lyrical aptitude is magnified. His band mates, Chris Hung and Neil Erenstrom drew attention away from this in the past, but fronting up as a solo artist brings everything that he does into greater magnification.

Unfortunately, O’Connor’s lyrical scarcity uncovered is chilling rather than endearing. There’s not a great deal of substance on Liquorice Nights; the aforementioned ‘Windy Harmony’ suggests “I’ll take my tiny sips/My tiny little sips”  of rain that falls on his lips; in fact O’Connor is quite concerned with his mouth and putting things in it on Liquorice Nights: ‘Lips’ has him suggesting that “my lips, my lips are stale” while in ‘Vampire Sips”, O’Connor’s head “lies like a fossil in your hand” amidst the delicious cooing vocal backing with “kisses in my vampire sips”. Hardly electric imagery, it’s what is going on behind him that highlight’s the albums’ strength.

Known as “Mr Melbourne”, O’Connor draws on his friends to empower Liquorice Nights; he is at his best when he is able to bring people together to assist his vision. Liquorice Nights is no exception, and it is in this collaboration where the album is at its best. The beautiful, haunting and childish feminine vocals propping O’Connor up add much depth to some otherwise placid recordings. ‘Will You’ and ‘Bleach’ are diversified by the Bjork/Newsom mix of shrill, childish backing, and ‘Bleach’ and ‘Lip’ are dominated by the coos of O’Connor’s female counterpart.

However it’s the albums lyrical coldness that demonstrates O’Connor’s need for his band, and their delicious two minute twee pop. Once thought of as playing a dictator type leadership role in The Crayon Fields, the venture into the solo territory has shown his band to be indispensable, and in fact vital to the construction of his musical aspirations. Liquorice Nights serves as an excellent travel guide to any visitor to Melbourne’s autumn – if only it served better as a musical experience.